


Keeping Up Appearances

by FlorentineQuill



Series: Preening Her, Preening Him [3]
Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, post mud-fight, shirtless Diaval
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorentineQuill/pseuds/FlorentineQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diaval tries to clean himself up after the mud-fight and mostly fails. Maleficent helps him, in her own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Up Appearances

The faeries went silent as Maleficent returned from seeing Aurora home after the mud fight. Diaval did not look up from where he was trying to scrub mud out of his shirt. It was a fruitless effort— He had found himself covered in mud several times over by the end of the fight. The faeries had taken Maleficent’s first volley as approval, and had aimed at him more often than not. Aurora had still been laughing when she left for home. How she would explain her mud-spattered dress to her Aunties, he had no idea.

He had tried to get the worst off, but the stream's bottom had been stirred up by the fight and was half-mud itself. In the end, he had scrubbed the worst of it off with his shirt, but there was still plenty of muck left on him. He could feel Maleficent watching him, and scowled before holding up his sopping shirt. He lowered it enough to meet her eyes, still scowling, and stopped.

She was imposing as ever, but there was a tension to her posture, a tightness about her eyes that worried him. All had been well when she and Aurora had left. He opened his mouth and shut it again, aware of the others about them. He tilted his head to one side by a mere fraction, and let out a breath at her tiny head shake. He shook his shirt at her. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean this?” he asked her. “Never mind the rest of me, thanks ever so, but this alone?”

A corner of her mouth curled up in an amused smile. “Poor, vain bird,” she said. “Did your fine feathers get a little mussed?”

“A little _mussed_?” he sputtered. “You call this a little mussed?” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his hands sharply to dislodge the mud with dull _splats_ as it hit the ground. “It’s going to take me hours to preen this all out. No self-respecting raven would let himself be seen like this! I can hear the crows sniggering now!”

Maleficent raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if you’re more vexed by the mud on your clothing or the mud on you,” she said and he ground his teeth. She was laughing at him now, he could tell. 

“I’m not quite sure,” he replied with a sniff, and wrung out his shirt. “This is your fault, you know.”

“Hmm. I beg to differ.” Maleficent turned away, walking back towards the forest. “I don’t recall any of the others laughing when I got spattered.” 

“What? That was funny!” He jumped across the stream to follow her, shirt in hand. “And easily cleaned up,” he pointed out, eyeing her. Whatever mud had struck her earlier was now gone and she looked flawless as ever.

“Oh for heaven’s sake— Your shirt is cleaned easily enough too,” Maleficent said and flicked her fingers at his shirt. Golden sparks curled up and over the fabric, cleaning and drying as it went. She gave him another considering look. “I could clean you as well, if you like…”

He yelped as the magic drifted over his pants, cleaning them as well. “No, thank you,” he replied quickly. “There are some things a bird likes to do himself.” He shivered a little in the cool night air. “I might have to wait until tomorrow,” he muttered, rubbing his arms. Dried flakes of mud fell off but he was still filthy. 

Maleficent raised an eyebrow. “Will you survive that long, grubby as you are?”

“I’m vain, not stupid,” he retorted. “Wet feathers and cold, that’s a wonderful combination.” He cocked his head to one side. “Though, if I got sick, Aurora would be sure to bring tasty treats…”

“Not that you would be in any fit state to enjoy them.” 

He sighed. “No, I imagine not.”

They walked in silence for a several minutes, Diaval trying to brush off the worst of the mud clinging to him with his free hand. Maleficent stepped away to avoid being hit with more mud. He amused himself by flicking smaller bits of mud at her dress hem, managing to get one or two pieces to stick. 

She drew to a halt outside the fallen trees that hid the entrance to her caves. She raised her hand to transform him and paused, lips pursed. He went still as she studied him, mud clinging to his hair and skin. She seemed to reach a decision and sighed. 

“Mistress…?” 

She fixed him with a reproachful stare. “I can hardly leave you in this state.” She paused. “Aurora would be horrified if she saw you, still caked in mud when she comes tomorrow morning.”

“What are you proposing exactly?” he asked.

She gestured towards the caves. “There are small pools inside, adequate enough for you to bathe and preen.”

“Still chilly,” he said and fell silent at her unamused stare.

“It is hardly a burden for me to heat my room for the night,” she said with a half-shrug and he bit his tongue to keep his jaw from dropping open. “You would dry off safely and,” her lips twitched, “be your so-called beautiful self by morning.”

“What do you mean by so-called?” He stomped past her towards the entrance. “I’ll have you know I have been much admired for my feathers, when I’m not covered in mud.” He shoved past the concealing tangle of moss and vines and wards only to squawk as she transformed him into his raven-shape. He fluttered to the ground and scrabbled for purchase on the stone floor.

She let out a soft huff of amusement as she followed him inside. “You’ll find one of the pools nearby. I trust you won’t get lost?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response and took off, following the sound of trickling water to the nearest pool. He let out another squawk as he landed in the cold water. He clamped his beak shut and splashed, furiously. It took several minutes of splashing and shaking his whole body to get rid of the mud but it came out. He fluffed his feathers, flexing and twisting to make sure he was clean before leaving the pool and flying back to Maleficent’s room.

True to her word, she had raised to the temperature in the small cave to that of a balmy summer’s day. The only piece of furniture inside was her nest, made out of several large, entwined branches. It was heaped with blankets and a couple of pillows and looked comfortable enough. He back-winged to land on the side and cocked his head to one side, watching his mistress. 

Maleficent was getting ready for bed herself, sitting on the edge of her nest. Her hair was free from the day’s wrap and her dress had been replaced by a soft dressing gown, secured with a wide sash. Out of sight of the others now, she looked troubled, working something over in her mind as she combed her fingers through her hair and started to braid it for sleep. 

He stretched out his neck and tugged at her sleeve. She looked almost startled but waved her hand to transform him. He tipped forward, off the edge of her nest and scrambled to his feet. To sit on the edge while he was in raven-shape was one thing. To be that close to her nest in his man-shape was something entirely different— There was room for one in that nest and it was most definitely not him. 

“What is it, Diaval?” she asked, finishing her braid.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he said, shoving his wet hair out of his face. “Everything was fine when you left to take Aurora home, but now you’ve got storm clouds in your eyes.”

Her spine stiffened at that and he swallowed. Now, she would either tell him or he could guess. If she transformed him back into a bird, he knew he was on the right track. “She— She didn’t ask about your wings again, did she?” he said. He had nearly fallen out of the sky in shock when Aurora had asked the day before. He had lost several feet of height when Maleficent actually answered the girl. He still meant to take Aurora off for a little chat, to make sure she didn’t ask again— Even those few sentences had left Maleficent trembling after Aurora had gone home.

Maleficent stared at him. “No,” she said after a moment. “She didn’t ask about them again.”

“Then what?” he pressed. “She’s almost sixteen, you know. If there’s anything we need to do before she goes back to that castle—” He took a step forward and found himself in bird-shape again, flapping to the ground. 

“There is nothing we can do,” Maleficent whispered, not looking at him. She slid into her nest, out of his sight. There was a faint ripple of magic as she got rid of her dressing gown. He stared up at the nest for moment, trying to work things out in his smaller, raven-mind. He had a suspicion but wanted to mull it over properly. He leapt up onto the edge of the nest again and side-stepped until he was facing his mistress.

She watched him without a word as he fluffed his feathers and started to preen everything back into its proper place. There was a flicker of movement and he stopped as clever fingers, with long nails ran down his back. She tweaked several of his harder-to-reach feathers back into place and shook her head, tucking her hand back under the blanket. “Vain bird,” she said softly and damped the cave lights for sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Mini headcanon: At least one of Maleficent's pillows was stolen from the fairies (probably Knotgrass) and re-dyed to a more sensible color because Maleficent is petty like that xD


End file.
